A Different Shade
by WarPeeXon45
Summary: Juliette thought she could get away, escape the Reestablishment, but she was wrong. She jumped out a fifteenth story window only to be caught by the hands of her greatest nightmare before the fall. This is what would've happened if Juliette had stayed with Warner. The story picks up in Chapter 28 of "Shatter Me".
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

I'm burning.

The cord is chafing my legs into a fiery mass so painful I'm surprised there's no smoke. I bite back the pain because I have no choice. The mass hysteria of the building is bulldozing my senses, raining down danger all around us. Adam is shouting to me from below, telling me to jump, promising he'll catch me. I'm too ashamed to admit I'm afraid of the fall.

I never have a chance to make my own decision. Soldiers are already pouring into what used to be my room, shouting and confused, probably shocked to find Warner in such a feeble position. It was really too easy to overpower him. It worries me.

It makes me think we did something wrong.

A few soldiers pop their heads out of the shattered window and I'm frantic to shimmy down the rope but they're already moving to unlatch the anchor. I prepare myself for the nauseating sensation of free fall only to realize they're not trying to drop me. They're trying to reel me back inside.

Warner must be telling them what to do.

He's telling them to pull me back in, back to him-and I'm afraid.

I'm afraid of what he's going to do to me if they succeed in their endeavor of reeling me back inside. But even more, I'm afraid of free falling down fifteen stories into Adam's waiting arms. The chances that I'd be able to fall that far without hurting myself are slim. The chances he'd be able to catch me? Slimmer.

I steel myself for what must be done. I would rather die falling into the arms of my lover than live the remainder of my life in Warner's.

I close my eyes. _Let go, _I tell myself, _on the count of three. _

1.

I tighten my eyes and relax my ever-tensing muscles, feel the tears threaten to spill out under my closed eye-lids.

2.

I can feel them pulling me higher and higher, back to the safety of the solid floor but also into the cruelty of Warner's all-seeing eye. I can't go back. Not if he can touch me. Not if he can touch me.

3.

I feel myself being pulled into the building just as my hands begin to release the rope. I feel myself begin to free fall, but only for a second. Oh, only one sweet, sweet second of victory.

Someone's bare hand has caught my wrist. I'm screaming bloody-murder. I'm dangling over the side of a fifteen-story building-held up from a gory doom by only the hand of my greatest nightmare. I dare not open my eyes, but I do dare to shout one word to my lover waiting a hundred feet below.

"Run."

And I hope he does.

But my eyes can't bring themselves to watch him.

**Hi readers! I just wanted to let you know some basic things about this fic right here. First of all, I will post links to all the chapters on my tumblr, so if you need to find an alternative route to navigate your way to my story, I suggest you check there first. Otherwise, I encourage you to follow the story and leave questions, comments, criticism, favorites, whatever you want me to see! I am VERY OPEN to your constructive criticism (: and compliments :) Secondly, I want you to know that starting this Saturday, June 21st, 2014, I will be posting a new chapter every Saturday until the story is completed! Hopefully, you'll be able to wait a week between each chapter, but if there's a lot of demand I may post earlier. Wow, I think this paragraph is longer than the actual prologue, so I'm just gonna wrap it up. Thank you! And don't forget to follow, favorite, review, and come back on Saturdays for new chapters! :D**


	2. Chapter 29 (Chapter 1)

**IT'S SATURDAY! Which means it's time for the first chapter of "A Different Shade". :) This is technically the first chapter of this story, but since the story begins in Chapter 28 of Shatter Me, I would like you to consider this more as Chapter 29 of my alternate version of Shatter Me! It will be labeled appropriately, of course. And in case I didn't mention it, you may or may not want to reread the first 27 chapters of Shatter Me before you read this, but that's up to you. You do you. I hope you enjoy it, and as always, don't forget to comment, criticize, compliment, favorite, follow, and come back next Saturday for the newest chapter of "A Different Shade"! Thanks for reading! Keep on keeping on. ;) **

They've pulled me in. They've pulled me in and someone's bare hand is touching the skin at my shoulder. I'm cradled against my captor's chest and carried through the halls into an elevator. I do not dare to open my eyes to the painful reality that awaits them. I cannot bring myself to admit whose arms I've been cradled in.

I hear the mechanical click of a door and feel the rush of relief as I am let down from the arms that carried me here-set down on a bed. I curl into myself and let the tears spill over. I hug my knees up to my chest and fall over onto my side. I feel a hand reach out and touch my back and I jump, scramble away. In my blind haste, I almost hit the headboard. I sit myself on top of a pillow and ball myself back up, burying my face against my knees.

A loud sigh, form the other side of the room. A gentle voice. "Love, would you please just open your eyes?"

I don't respond.

"You'll make this a lot easier on the both of us if you just cooperate," I hear his footsteps coming toward me.

I whimper and scramble to my feet, still blind, still unwilling to face this. I turn quickly and move away from his voice. I walk straight into a wall and hit my head but I don't care-I just lean my forehead against it and open my eyes for the first time since the failed escape attempt. I stare at the wall, my eyes fearful of what they might see if they were to look elsewhere.

"Please," he begs, "please!" And there's a hint of real pain in his voice. If I weren't so distraught, I'd laugh at it.

"Leave me alone!" I shout with as much force as I can muster, "Just leave me alone, you stupid, ignorant monster!"

"No," he breathes, "not again, not ever again." I can feel him shift closer to me. His footsteps grow louder and I don't know where to go, can't find a path of escape. I feel his hand on my shoulder and I flinch but there's no escaping now. My eyes shift downwards and I see his feet situated directly behind mine, closing me in.

"Juliette-"

"Don't!" I cry.

"Juliette, I-"

"Don't say my name!" I scream, "You don't deserve to say my name, not now, not ever!"

"I-"

"You're a monster, a monster!"

"Would you please just-"

"Why not just kill me now?"

"Juliette, listen to me!" His voice is so loud I can feel the vibrations of it in my bones.

I am silent.

Terrified.

Shaking.

"You need to calm down. Take a bath, I'll lay some clothes out for you."

"Why should I listen to you?" I feel the words shake themselves free, off of my tongue, trembling almost as much as the rest of my body.

"You're going to be here for a long time, whether you like it or not. I suggest you get used to it." He opens the bathroom door, I pull my forehead off the wall and walk towards the open door. My eyes wander upwards just barely enough to look him in the eyes for a moment. I wish they hadn't. Warner's eyes shine two different shades of torture.

* * *

I allow myself to sink down into the water and disappear under the surface. The warmth pools gently around me. I need to find a way to cope with my current situation and crying enough to fill a bathtub with tears won't cut it.

I can't help but wonder where Adam is. Did Warner send his soldiers off on a manhunt or has he allowed Adam to go free? Is he running off by himself with no shelter or protection?

I dare not allow my mind to wander through the possibilities too long, afraid of where it may take me. I emerge from the tub, no longer crying but still unable to leave my dark and unforgiving thoughts.

I grab a towel from the rack and wrap the fluffy, white warmth around me-another towel wraps my hair up to dry. I walk to the door, afraid of what lies behind it. Muffled voices reach my ear. It's Warner and another man whose voice I do not recognize.

"I need more time!" Warner snarls.

"He specifically said he'd be here tomorrow," the other man assures Warner.

"Talk to him, make him understand that isn't a possibility. Not yet. Not with her here."

"Yes, sir."

I hear the sound of a mechanical door clicking shut before I clumsily open the bathroom door and stumble out into the bedroom as I clutch tightly to the towel wrapped around my body. I hear Warner breathe a heavy sigh as he tries to keep his eyes away from my near-naked figure.

"Hello, love," Warner whispers, his eyes falling to his hands that are folded neatly in his lap only to come back up to meet mine.

I drop my own eyes.

I don't respond.

He grabs a pile of clothing sitting next to him on the bed and crosses the threshold of the room. He holds the clothes out to me. I take them reluctantly. "Dress, then dinner," he directs.

I nod and return to the bathroom. I shut the door tight and let the towel drop to the floor. Warner has given me new undergarments. They are soft, silky, and-best of all-clean. I can't say I don't enjoy them. However, the bright yellow dress he's given me is another story. It's strapless and falls about mid-thigh, made of a comfortable, flowy material.

I hate it.

I emerge from the bathroom to see Warner laying on the bed, rubbing his temples with his thumbs and breathing heavily. I take a few steps forward and he bolts upright, dropping his feet to the ground and grabbing a pair of flat, off-white shoes that I hadn't noticed before, he strides over to me and drops the shoes at my feet.

"Wear these," he commands.

I slip on the shoes. If I thought I had no freedom before, it's obvious now that I will be even more constricted. Warner seems to want to be the one to monitor me himself. He grabs my bare hand and pulls me to the door, punches in a code to open it and drags me out into the hall.

I'm taken back by the heightened security, there are at least double the amount of soldiers in the halls now. Warner isn't taking any chances. I stumble along behind him as he yanks me towards the elevator. He hits the button and the doors open, he steps aside and nudges me in. I go without complaint. He stands directly to my side and slides his arm across my back, pulling me into his side. The doors open and Warner shuffles me down the hall to a door labeled "sitting room", he opens the door and allows me to walk in first.

"Sit," he says, motioning to the two plush, red armchairs with a coffee table in between them set in the center of the room. I take the chair closest to the window that stretches the length of one of the walls. He sits down across from me.

"Now that we're all comfortable," Warner begins, "Tell me, Juliette," he takes in a deep breath, lets it out, "whatever were you thinking?"


	3. Chapter 30 (Chapter 2)

I don't answer. I can't answer. I can remember exactly what I was thinking but I don't voice my thoughts out of fear of punishment-a fear that I suppose is irrational. Honestly, since I first arrived on this base, I haven't been punished once. I've been forced to do things against my will, but not punished for anything directly.

I don't realize I've been staring out the window until Warner's voice calls me back to reality.

"Juliette, love, look at me," I don't, "Love, just cooperate and I assure you we'll get along so much better."

"Stop that," I scowl and move my gaze so that I'm staring at the diamond shape imprinted in the golden carpeting at my feet.

"Stop what, love?" Warner inquires.

"That."

"I'm sorry, love, but you'll have to be a little more specific about what you would like me to stop," he quips.

"Calling me love, calling me by my name, calling me anything at all!" I bury my face in my hands and shut my eyes tight.

Warner clears his throat, "Well, as much as I would like to oblige, I'm afraid I can't. You see, I have to address you somehow while you're on base with me and it will have to be one of those two. Take your pick, love."

I let out a screech of exasperation, "I am not your love!" I yell, standing up and crossing over to the chair where he sits. I put my hands against the back of his chair, leaning over him, closing him in. "I am not your love and I never will be! Now stop calling me that." I stare into his eyes, they are full of anger but quickly turn into something else that I refuse to name.

He grabs me by the waist with one arm and uses the other to push himself up, off the chair. He pulls me into the curve of his body and leans in toward me. "You're on my turf, love, don't forget that," a pause, "You seem to have forgotten that you don't have any defense against me anymore, Juliette," another pause. He breathes

1

2

3 times before he runs his finger along the naked curve of my shoulder.

I shiver, I turn my eyes away from him. He presses his lips against my ear, "but this could be so much easier than you're making it if you'll just-" A pause, he leans down to plant a kiss at my neck, "cooperate."

I wish I could say that the only thing I feel is sheer terror in this moment, I wish that his disgusting interior matched his beautiful exterior and soft-spoken words. I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't attracted to him.

He releases me and sits back down in his own chair. "Please, love, sit down, we have a lot more to discuss," he waves a bored hand at my chair.

I slowly make my way back to my chair and fall back into it, sinking into the plush velvet. I close my eyes and try to prepare myself for Warner's questions. I jump a hundred feet in the air when I hear the door open.

"Don't mind it, it's just dinner," Warner assures me. Several servants push carts into the room, cart after cart until almost two full walls are lined with carts of food. I am confused as to why so much food would be wasted on just two people, Warner seems to notice me staring.

"What are you thinking, love?" He asks simply.

I stare, flabbergasted and disgusted at all the food that could be used to feed poor, starving children, but instead is wasted upon a monster and a murderer. "Is this all for us?" It's barely a whisper.

"Yes, it's all for us. You see, I figured we'll be in here for a very long time while you answer my questions, so I had them make extra. Feel free to eat any of it, love." He smiles, obviously pleased with himself, thinking that he's making me happy by supplying me with all this sustenance.

"I'm not hungry," I look away from him, hoping to mask the fact that I'm not only hungry, but starved.

"Of course you are, you've had a rough day," he stands, "I'll get myself some food until you stop confusing stupidity with bravery."

I watch him make his way around the room, surveying each cart and filling a plate, no, two plates, with what he finds worthy enough to please his palate. "You know, neither of us is going to leave this room until you've told me what I want to know, it'd be best if you started talking," he shuffles back over to the small seating area and places not one, but two plates down on the coffee table. One for me. One for him. Two glasses and a pitcher of water.

"Eat, Juliette," Warner eyes me and I stare at the plate of food in front of me, hesitant to accept the nourishment. I cross my arms and look away, look up at Warner.

He clears his throat menacingly and locks eyes with me: his eyes are two intense emeralds that bore into my core, stealing my secrets before even I know them, "If you will not eat, then please, do entertain me with the tale of your blasted escape plan, love," he waves his hands in an exasperated motion and leans back in the chair, crosses his arms, stares me down.

Licks his lips

ever

so

slightly

Oh.

God.

Then, something strange happens. His armor breaks. His shell collapses. He uncrosses his arms and cradles his head into his hands as his elbows rest against his knees. He runs his hands down his face, looks up. His eyes, they're brighter, more intense, laced with something poisonous, something dangerous, filled with worry. His arms are shaking and he starts to tap his foot. "God, Juliette, you just don't- you just don't know what that did to me. I just want to know why, love. . . Why?"

He's losing his mind.

"Why? How could you possibly care 'why'?" I snap at him. A monster like him shouldn't care about the "why". A monster like him only cares that I'm back under his tyranny.

His glare is cold when he looks at me again. "There are plenty of reasons why I should and do care, but it's obvious to me that you're too naive to fathom them," he takes a few deep breaths, closes his eyes. "Now, I'll ask you again, love. Why?" His question is only an exasperated sigh that escapes his lips.

It's too sincere; he's playing some sort of mind game, some sort of cruel trick. I want to scream. I want to punch him. "Fine, you want to know why?" I'm standing now, pacing back and forth. "I wanted to get out of here because I didn't want to be here in the first place, I was brought here by force, Warner, by your damn soldiers. I wanted to get out because I'm monitored every waking hour here, there were cameras and microphones in my goddamn room and you wouldn't let me leave your side whenever I was out of my quarters. I wanted to get out of here because of Adam, because he promised to find us a better life and to help me take you down!" I turn on Warner and point my finger in his face, "I wanted to be able to love someone, and that someone wasn't, nor will it ever be, you!" I'm seething gasping for air as the tears spill down my cheeks, "You- you sick, sick, twisted bastard!"

His carefully composed, neutral expression that he maintained during my rant doesn't leave his face. He doesn't say a word. I can't hold his gaze any longer, I turn away and fall back into the chair. I bury my face in my hands and breathe out, "I just want out of here."

A long silence ensues. I watch the tears roll down my cheek and drop onto the pale yellow fabric of my dress, one-by-one. As they ebb into nothing, a hand is set down gently on my back. I don't move.

"I'm afraid, my dear, that isn't possible. However, I'd be willing to make your stay a lot more comfortable and give you a lot more freedom had you not attempted to run away from me. Not to mention, that you attempted this right under my nose, in cahoots with one of my own soldiers..." He pauses, "However, I've said it before and I'll say it again, if you would only cooperate, everything would be so much easier," he runs his fingertips along my spine. A chill runs down my back, his fingers still. His hand leaves my back. Relief rushes through my veins. I remain silent as I lift my head and watch Warner cross the room and grab a muffin, walk to the window, stare out, take a bite.

My head is spinning with too many thoughts and too many feelings and-oh, where is Adam? Is he alright? Is he safe? I have to ask something.

"Is he alright?" I burst out before I really think it over, the words falling straight from my impulsive thoughts.

Warner drops the muffin. His shoulders seem to tense up drastically. He puts his palms against the window and leans against it, asks a question he already knows the answer to. "Is who alright?"

I plant my feet on the ground as firmly as I can and stand up, feeling a new amount of anger coursing through me at the thought of Adam. "Is Adam Kent alright?" I say firmly and slowly. Warner lets out a breath, turns around, stares me down.

"I'm afraid that Kent," he clears his throat, "has been taken care of."

I am speechless. I am forming words and thoughts and other combinations of those twenty-six letters but nothing is intelligible, it's all a complete blur in my mind. Adam has been "taken care of", I don't have to ask what that means.

Before I know it, I'm in hysterics. I'm stumbling off my feet and onto my hands and knees and I feel as if I am going to vomit. I can feel the tears rolling down my face but I can't see them drop, no, there's too many tears. The tears blind me and blur the world. I can't see and I start gasping for air as I curl up into a ball and scream and scream and scream scream scream. I scream until I have no more screams to give and when I've finally used my voice too much for it to work, I push myself up a little, onto my knees. I sit there, gasping for air and sobbing sobbing sobbing. Trying but failing to get air in my lungs to speak.

I take a deep breath.

A pair of feet approaches.

2

4

6 steps toward me before they stop directly in front of me.

I look up.

Warner is standing over me with an expression on his face I've never seen before. I can just barely analyze his features through the water spilling out of my eyes. It's an expression I would never have thought I'd see from him-regret. I can't take it, I look away.

Adam. Adam Adam Adam. My love, my rock, my safety. "Taken care of". Dead. Dead as he may be. I can't force those words down my throat, I can't swallow them and I can't accept them. Warner must be mistaken. Adam must be out there still, on the run, shot, injured. There are so many possibilities that could explain why Warner thinks he's dead, so many more possibilities than the reality Warner has presented me with.

Warner is wrong. He must be wrong.

Without my knowing, I've curled into myself again-sobbing and shaking and waiting for some sort of relief, searching for a way out of this darkness but only finding more tears, more pain.

I feel myself lifted from the ground, still curled up into a ball, but now cradled in strong arms. There arms are dangerous, poisonous. These are the arms of a murderer. I try to escape Warner's grasp as he carries me over to another area of the room. I wriggle and kick and scream terrible, vicious, nasty things at him as he crosses the threshold of the room and deposits me on a small couch in the opposite corner from the sitting area. He leans over the couch and pulls out a pillow and a blanket. He puts the pillow behind my head and spreads the blanket over me. Smooths back my hair, I can't help the shiver that runs down my spine as I tense at his touch.

"Sleep now," he says, "we'll talk in the morning."

* * *

**Hi everyone, how are you? I know it's already 12:24 AM on Sunday, I know I'm late. But I'm leaving for camp tomorrow and I won't have access to any form of technology for two weeks and I got caught up packing. So to make it up for being late today and for the fact that I won't be here to post a chapter next week, I'll be posting TWO chapters right now! The next one will be up in a few minutes, so stay tuned!**

**And I felt really bad about Warner dropping that muffin, that muffin is the first character I've ever killed. *sniffle sniffle* **


	4. Chapter 31 (Chapter 3)

It's dark out when I wake up. The entire room is dark, save for the glowing light from a flashlight on the other side of the room.

Warner is reading a book.

It doesn't make sense.

The Reestablishment decided years ago that they would destroy almost every literary work in existence except what they deemed appropriate for the population to read as curriculum in schools. So why is Warner, the commander of all of Sector 45, reading something that the very government he works for has vowed to destroy?

I shift just barely.

Warner notices, looks up from his book.

His eyes lock with mine.

He stands, crosses the room. His footsteps are as light as a feather, his eyes are heavy with lack of sleep. He gets closer and I sit up, already prepared to defend myself if I need to. He sighs and drags a hand across his forehead, "Love, I'm not going to hurt you, I only want to know why you're awake so early."

"How can I know that you won't hurt me?" I croak.

He lets out a breath so hard that his cheeks puff up as the air flows through them, "Juliette, I need you to trust me, is there any way you could do that?"

"You haven't given me a single reason to trust you!" I scream, infuriated by his outlandish request. To think I could ever trust him, well, he must be even more psychotic than I thought.

His voice is barely a whisper when he says, "There are plenty of reasons for you to trust me."

I scoff, roll my eyes, "Like what?"

He sits down on the end of the couch, grabs one of my hands in both of his and I shift uncomfortably but he won't let me go. "I care about you, Juliette," A deep breath, "I really do."

His eyes won't leave mine and I'm too scared to break the contact. I'm nervous and shaky and I can't help but wonder if maybe he's telling the truth, maybe he does care. But then I remember who I'm talking about. I remember that I've seen with my own two eyes that this boy can murder a man without the slightest hesitation. He made me torture a child, a child. This is the same boy that had Adam killed.

He killed Adam.

How could he possibly care?

"No," I state with a force that seems to make something in Warner's eyes shift, "You don't." His gaze leaves mine and he stares down at my hand in both of his and he almost looks sad, he almost looks like he does care-which is an absolutely insane thought.

"How can you say that?" He's breathing heavier than before and it looks like he's about to explode, "How can you say I don't care?" He lets go of my hand and stands up straight, turns his back to me, runs both hands through his hair as if he's desperate to find something to cling to, to keep him sane.

He truly doesn't understand.

It's almost comedic.

"How can I say that?" I throw his own question at him with all the rage I can muster, "You made me torture a child, Warner! An innocent child!" I scream.

He's staring at me like I've just accused him of blowing up the sun when it's still clearly there in the sky. His brow is furrowed and his mouth a thin, straight line. After a long time of silence, the corners of his mouth begin to tremble and break into a grin, his eyebrows lift. He laughs a whole-hearted laugh, he finds this funny.

"What are you laughing at?" I burst out, angry that he would laugh at a child's pain.

"Love, you can't possibly believe that I'd make you do that, do you?" He keeps looking into my eyes and laughing laughing laughing, as if I've just told him the funniest joke in the world.

"Of course, you did, Warner!" How can you even deny it?" I yell at the top of my lungs as I grab a pillow and bury my face in it.

"Juliette, dear, that wasn't real. I thought you understood that." I lift my eyes back up to meet his. He tries to suppress his smile and fails greatly. I stare at him, he can't possibly believe he'll win my trust through such a thinly veiled lie such as this. It almost makes me sick.

"What kind of monster are you?" I accuse, my voice cracking, "of course it was real, you threw me in that room and said if I didn't rescue the child, you wouldn't either! He could've died," I pause, look down, wring my hands, "I could've killed him."

Warner is still smiling.

For the first time ever, I wish that I could use my power against someone. I wish I could reach out and crush his bones between my hands.

But I can't.

He's immune to my touch.

Well, I'm immune to his goddamn smiles.

"Love, you didn't have to jump out the window over that, you could have simply asked me, it was just a simulation," he tries to grab my hand and I flinch away scramble as I tuck my knees up to my chest. I tumble off the couch and onto the floor.

"Don't touch me!" I scream at him, "don't you ever touch me!"

He tries to reach for me again, "Juliette, you need to calm down now," he whispers as his hand locks around my bare wrist.

I shake my arm. Hard.

He let's go, throws both hands up in the air as he turns around. He makes a noise that is somewhere between a growl and a scream and turns on me again. "For the love of God, Juliette! Why can't you just calm down for two seconds and let me explain this one, little thing?" His eyes are full of rage and regret and frustration and I can't can't can't bring myself to speak because I'm too scared. I've never seen so much emotion from him. I haven't seen this sort of intensity from anyone, ever. Not even when my parents screamed at me.

I'm frozen in place and I can't move.

I can't even breathe.

He's still fuming and staring at me and his green eyes are almost fully overtaken by his pupils, filled with black. "Just this once," he says, "let me explain. God, Juliette, just this once!"

A pause.

1.

2.

3 seconds before he holds out his hand.

Another 6 seconds before I take it.

He pulls me to my feet and I look at him as I nod my head.

I'll listen.

Just this once.

He takes a deep breath and sits down on the couch. I stay standing, stare down at him as he rubs his temples, presses his thumbs against his closed eye-lids.

He takes another deep breath before he starts what I can only assume will be a very long explanation, "I thought I was making you stronger."

I stare at him in silence, unsure of what he means or how to respond. He looks down at the floor. "I tried so many different approaches with you, I thought that-" he takes a single deep breath, "I thought I was helping you, I swear, I thought I could be patient with you, that you'd come out in your own time, but you took too long, Juliette. I'm a very impatient being and I slanted to see you grow, and you obviously weren't doing that when you were left to your own devices." He stands up then, crosses the room, rests his hands on the back of a chair.

"So I forced you," he continues, "I thought I could bully you, that day when we made that deal, the cameras for your touch, I thought I could aggravate you to the point where you would want to hurt me, to the point where you actually would, and it almost worked." He turns then, he looks straight at me, he looks into my eyes and I see something has shifted. He isn't angry anymore, he looks thoughtful, sad almost. "You almost touched me," he smiles then, a sad smile, "you could've but you didn't, and I lost it. I couldn't take it. I needed to know how-" He pauses, shakes his head, turns around and puts his face in his hands and he's quiet for almost a whole minute and I let him take his time until he lifts his head again and turns to look at me. "It was a simulation, Juliette, it wasn't real. The child wasn't real, whatever I said to you wasn't real, and I'm sorry that you probably won't believe me when I tell you this."

"I'm sorry," he says, "I'm sorry that I hurt you then and I'm sorry that I can't explain more now, I've let this go too far." He purses his lips, runs a hand across his mouth. "You should get some sleep, there's still a few hours until morning and you're going to need all the rest you can get."

If I had any energy to argue with him for not telling me more of the truth, I would, but with my mind beginning to fuzz and my thoughts beginning to scramble, I instead ask him a simple question, "What would I need rest for if I'm going to be locked up in here with you all day?"

He looks away from me, looks at the ground, sighs, "There's been a slight change of plans in what you'll be doing tomorrow. Just trust me that you'll need your rest. Goodnight, Juliette."

He spares only a quick glance at me again before he turns, walks back to his chair and picks up his book. I can't help but think that from what I've seen tonight, what his words have conveyed and his almost humanoid emotions, I can't help but think that there must be something more to this young boy who has tortured so many and hated so much.

And I'm dying to unravel him.

* * *

**First of all, I'm sorry if the formatting on this is messed up, it got butchered when I transferred the document. Oi vey.**

**It's so difficult to keep Warner's character development from going too fast. I'm trying to spread it out a little more because I always feel like we learn so much about him in that short period of time while he's held captive in Unravel Me. I just want to spread the information out a little, but I don't want to turn Warner into the Ignite Me version of Warner too early. It's hard when I know so so so much about him and when I'm used to reading about and thinking about Ignite Me's version of him to then go back and have to write about the Shatter Me and Destroy Me timeline version of Warner.**

**But how'd you like it? What did you think? Review and please please PLEASE leave compliments and criticism and whatever else you want to leave in the reviews! I won't be here to post another chapter next week but I'll be back on July 12th to update! Thanks for reading! Don't forget to follow, favorite, and come back for more! :)**


	5. Chapter 32 (Chapter 4)

I wake up again to muffled voices outside the door to the sitting room that Warner and I have occupied for the past day. Warner isn't anywhere to be seen, his book has been set neatly on the coffee table in the small sitting area, his suit jacket hung over the back of his chair.

I sit up and listen for the voices. One is louder than the other, more authoritative, more terrifying. The other, the weaker voice, I immediately recognize as Warner's. He is trying to hush the other man.

"You can't go in there now, she's asleep, I have not woken her yet," he's saying in a hushed tone, a slight tremor quaking his words.

"Then go in there and wake her," the other man hisses. Who could this man be? To make a murderer's voice tremble in fear, to make him revert to barely a shell of the boy he is? This man is important, and it's obvious his presence is excessively unnerving to Warner.

I freeze, remembering another conversation I'd eavesdropped on last night.

Warner.

A visitor.

_"I need more time!" _He had snarled viciously at the messenger who had brought him the news of this man's arrival.

"She's weak now, she's gone completely insane! It'd be irrational for you to speak with her now," Warner tells the older man, raising his voice.

The older man sighs, "You told me she'd be ready soon, son, and you're running out of time, I want to meet her during this visit, I want to examine her, because it is obvious my own son is too incompetent to get the job done!"

Silence.

Long, painful silence.

_My own son._

Warner's father, the supreme commander.

Here.

This can't possibly be good.

I hear someone let out a breath, then the door opens. I sit straight up. Warner stops when he sees me awake. He closes the door tightly before walking over to me.

"Good morning, love," he whispers as he leans his elbows on the back of the couch I'm laying on.

"Who was that?" I ask, looking more for confirmation than for knowledge. He tenses.

"You heard?" His breath hitches and he looks like he might faint. He stands up straight but keeps his hands resting on the back of the couch. He stares at me with the emerald daggers that could strike fear into the heart of any man or woman, but now look to be on the receiving end of fear, as if they belong to a scared child and not a heartless, confused murderer.

I breathe once, twice, three times before asking, "it was your father, wasn't it?"

He tenses even more, swallows, nods just once before turning his back to me and running both hands through his hair. "He wants to speak with you, he wants to try to undo what I did wrong." His voice trails off on the last few words.

I'm not sure what Warner's father thinks that Warner did wrong. He kept me here to be used as a weapon, didn't he? He didn't allow me to escape. He did everything a perfect little monster should, didn't he?

Didn't he?

"What does he think you did wrong?" I ask, voicing my thoughts, wondering how a villain such as Warner could possibly do evil any less than perfect.

He ignores my question. "I told him that it wasn't possible, that you weren't prepared enough to talk to him." He turns around to face me, "I promise, Juliette, you won't have to speak with him any time soon." He smiles a little, pleased with himself for making me this small promise.

"I won't?" I ask, my voice small.

"No, I'll make sure of it." He smiles genuinely then, a grin coated by sugar but laced with poison, covered in sunshine but filled with demons. He's gorgeous when he smiles. I feel conflicted for a moment, Warner couldn't possibly be protecting me. His father must be worse than he himself, especially if he can reduce Warner to the young boy he really he is, and Warner is _protecting _me from his torture, which I could only imagine to be exponentially worse than his son's.

I hesitate, then tentatively utter the most painful words I've ever had to say, "Thank you, Warner." I drop my gaze to my lap, then bring it back up to meet his. He looks shocked, like he never thought I would dare to say those words.

Well, that makes two of us.

He lets out a breath I didn't realize he was holding, "You're welcome," he breathes twice before he finishes, "Juliette."

5.

10.

15 seconds of silence pass between us before he clears his throat and says, "Well we best be getting out of here."

Out of here? "I thought I was going to stay in this room now," I look at him questioningly.

"Well, as I've said there's been a change of plans, you see, there are a lot better places to hide from my father than the main sitting room, and your stuff has already been brought to your new quarters. It will be quite an easy transition for you as long as we can make it from here to there without him seeing you." He eyes me then says, oddly cheerfully, "Are you up for a challenge, love?"

I nod. He walks to a wall and pulls one of the carts of food that he had brought here yesterday until it is next to the couch on which I lay. "Ready?"

I look at him, confusion is the only thing that crosses my mind. "W-what?" I stutter out.

He laughs a little, "the best way to get you places without my father seeing you is on a food cart, it's empty on this bottom shelf, and you'll be hidden by the cloth. It's foolproof, really." He smiles another one of those smiles then, the one that makes me think that maybe there's more to him beneath the surface, maybe he isn't as heartless as he makes himself out to be.

Maybe he actually does care.

My thoughts are dangerous.

I shake my head to clear them. Then turn to Warner and reluctantly tell him, "fine."

I stand up and walk over to the cart. Push the cloth to the side, crouch down and crawl inside. It's roomy under here but the metal of this shelf is cold against my skin. But I'm small enough to be comfortable in the space. The cloth lifts and Warner's face appears in front of me.

"I'm going to call a servant to push the cart so that we don't look suspicious, so stay silent," he disappears then, I hear a small click and then his voice again, "I request assistance in the sitting room on level 13B immediately." Another click and then silence for all of thirty seconds before there's a knock on the door, "Ah, yes, thank you," Warner says as the door opens.

"I need you to push this cart upstairs to my quarters for me," He directs.

_His room? _

I'm going to be staying in _his room._

He can't possibly believe that I'll let this happen. But just as I'm thinking to say something, to push off the cart. Warner's face peeks under the cloth again.

"You alright, love?" he whispers in such hushed tones that even I can barely hear it. I don't respond but instead just glare at him as menacingly as I possibly can. It doesn't have the effect I hoped it would.

He smiles at me, suppressing laughter. Then lets the cloth down and stands up. I hear the door open a second later and hear us moving through the hall. The wheels bump underneath the shelf on which I sit. I hear the ping of the elevator and then the noise of soldiers footsteps in the hallway. Another door opens. Shuts. I wait to make sure the coast is clear.

"Juliette, love, you can come out now," Warner says as he lifts the cloth for me. I crawl out and he reaches out his hand to help me up. I don't take it. I push myself to my feet. He frowns as I meet his eyes. He drops his gaze to the side.

"Excuse me, love, but I have work to do," He mutters so quietly I barely hear it, his voice full of dejection.

A sudden pang of regret hits me.

He just wanted to help me up, he wasn't being malicious or anything. He just wanted to help.

"_I thought I was helping you."_

His words come back to me and I consider them for a moment before I watch his figure retreat through his office door, leaving it wide open assumably so that he can monitor me through the door. I can't help but consider my new revelations for a minute.

I can't help but think that he isn't as bad as I think.

I can only think about his voice when I heard him this morning. I can only wonder what the truth about his relationship with his father may be. The extent to which his father terrifies him must be insane to make Warner tremble like that, to leave him speechless. I can't say that I enjoy seeing this side of Warner. It makes me feel bad for him.

It makes him seem human.

It's disgusting, confusing.

I'm confused on how I can hate him now that I've seen him like this; I've seen so much emotion from him now. All I can gather from his behavior is that he's confused, sad even; he honestly doesn't understand why I'd try to escape.

I almost laugh at the thought. Almost.

_"I could love you, Juliette-I would treat you like a queen!"_

I'm thrown back by the memory of his desperate pleas when I tried to escape with Adam. I take a few steps back and fall onto the plush sheets of Warner's bed.

_"I could make you happy,"_ he had plead.

A desperate attempt to keep me under his reign of terror, right?

Right?

_"Stay with me," _he'd yelled, _"I'll be patient with you, I'll give you time to adjust, I'll take care of you!"_ He had been willing to give me time, to let me adjust, he thought he was giving me what I wanted.

He thought I could love him.

No. No. No. No. No.

I shake my head to clear these thoughts that poison my sanity with every single word. I rub my temples and try to remember that Warner is psychotic. He's a monster, a murderer.

He killed Adam.

Adam.

My first friend and only love, gone. Dead. "Taken care of" as Warner, the monster himself, had told me. He sent his men to kill Adam. It's his fault that Adam is gone. Adam is dead and I can't stop imagining the scene.

A bullet. Adam, running somewhere out in the distance. And then blood. Blood and Adam and blood and Adam's body lying lifeless on cold, hard ground and I can't can't can't get the scene out of my head. I can't unsee these images. I can't forget their source, the one who did this to Adam.

Warner. It's his doing. But Adam, Adam was ready to kill Warner to escape if we had to, wasn't he? But Adam didn't. He didn't stoop so low. Warner did.

But I can't help but think that Adam would've done it if he had to. I might've killed Warner too, if we hadn't needed him alive originally. It might just be that I've seen too much of Warner. He's told me too much and I've seen him smile and I've almost seen him cry and I've seen him plead and beg and laugh and-

I can't help but think that he's not all that he seems to be.

But he killed Adam, didn't he?

But maybe we all would've killed in his situation, maybe it's just basic instinct. My thoughts shock me and I can't believe that I'm trying to justify Warner's actions to myself. Can't believe I'd defend a young boyconfused child heartless murderer, even in my own mind.

But then, I can't help but think that maybe there's more to him. Some explanation for his insanity that I intend to find out.

But maybe, that's just me?

Maybe I'm naive?

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**Ayyyyyyy! What's up? I'm back and it's time for updates of "A Different Shade"! I hope you've enjoyed the story so far, and I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update, I've been at camp for the past two weeks and I'm not allowed to have technology at camp. But thankfully, I'm back now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There's a lot of thought and not a lot of action in this chapter, and I guess that's OK. Everyone needs a break from explosive action sometimes. Hope you like it! Come back next weekend, when I return to my original schedule of posting on Saturdays, for another chapter of "A Different Shade"!**


	6. Chapter 33 (Chapter 5)

Warner enters the room after about three hours of working in his office. He's carrying a small, black book. It's rough and the binding is breaking and the pages are yellowed.

I recognize it immediately.

My notebook.

He has my notebook. Of course he does.

I'm only now realizing that he had my notebook last night too, the small book he was reading when I woke up. I stand up and walk over to him immediately.

"Hello, love," he says with a slight smile. I glare at him. I look at his hand wrapped around the small book and reach my own hand up to grab it. He flinches away, tucks it in his pocket.

"Give that back! It's mine!" I yell at the top of my lungs, I claw at his side as he deflects my feeble attempts to grab my notebook from him.

"I would, love, but I'm afraid I'm not done with it," he says as he wraps an arm around me to restrain me. "I think I'll be keeping it for quite some time," he adds as I wriggle out of his grasp.

"You have no right to read that! That's for my eyes only!" I yell as I break free and scramble quickly away from him. "Give it back!"

He freezes momentarily, "Tell me, love," he begins, "has anyone else ever read this journal of yours?" He takes the book out of his pocket, turns it over once, twice in his hands.

I hesitate before answering, unsure of his intentions, "No," I say weakly. I take a few steps forward, try to grab the notebook out of his hands, he holds it above his head, out of my reach.

"Not even Kent?" He sucks in a breath but doesn't let it out. He seems to care too much about my notebook and who has read it and I don't want to know what he knows from reading my private thoughts.

I don't want him to know he's the only one besides me to ever read it, "That's none of your business!" I jump and try to snatch the notebook but he raises it higher, I give up eventually and walk away from him, stumble to the bed, sit down and let myself fall onto the soft mattress.

I close my eyes.

"Juliette?" I hear Warner say from much closer than he was a minute ago. I feel a hand smooth back my hair and I jump ten feet in the air before I open my eyes again, look up at Warner staring down at me.

"What?" I hiss at him. Not wanting to discuss my personal, secret thoughts that are contained within my notebook with him.

He takes three deep breaths, closes his eyes, rubs his closed eyelids, opens them again, "Am I the only one who has read your journal?"

He asks, his voice barely a whisper.

I look down at my feet. I try to meet his gaze and can't can't can't because he is, and he knows it too, and somehow I feel like he knows too much about me and I about him to think of this as just an intrusion of privacy, to not think of it as his own creepy idea of intimacy. And I'm nervous and scared of these emotions I never thought I'd feel towards Warner and his ability to make me tremble with unwanted emotion fear just when he speaks to me.

"Juliette?" He's still waiting for an answer, I realize. I swallow my pride, let go of my dignity, and let him know the truth. I nod, slowly, only once.

And the hitch in his breath is so loud that I can feel the vibrations of it in my bones. I can see his expression change from a nervous sort of curiosity to a pleased, small smile.

He takes a deep breath."You have no idea how sorry I am," he says. I stay silent. He takes it as a cue to keep talking, "I had no idea that you were so tortured, I knew you'd been an outcast, I knew they had treated you poorly, but I didn't know-" his words drop off as his gaze shifts to the floor.

1. 2. 3. 4.

5 seconds of silence pass before he takes a deep breath in, lets it out. He looks me in the eyes and I feel as though I'm finally beginning to see him through a clear window instead of the shattered glass I've been viewing him through.

I don't know his name or his age. I can't tell you that his hair is blonde or that his eyes are green. I couldn't tell you if he was short or tall, fat or thin. I can't even tell you that he's the heartless murderer, the sick, twisted monster I once thought him to be.

I couldn't tell you anything about him.

Because all of a sudden, the storm has cleared and the rain is gone and my eyes have finally dried enough to let me see what was really there, what I'd missed for so long.

He's desperate for my acceptance, and maybe accepting him is the key to unraveling him, to finding his true intentions.

"Run," his voice a small whisper, I raise my eyebrows in question, look around for anything I should be running from, but then he continues, "Run, I said to myself, run until your lungs collapse, until the wind whips and snaps at your tattered clothes, until you're a blur that blends into the background."

He's reciting words from my journal, my personal thoughts, my deepest feelings. He has them on his tongue and he's allowing them to roll right off, not breaking eye contact with me. He breaths once, then continues.

"Run, Juliette, run faster," I'm rooted in place, I can't break his gaze and I'm too embarrassed, too terrified to move my own as the words tumble and fall and shake themselves free from his lips, "run until your bones break and your shins split and your muscles atrophy and your heart dies because it was always too big for your chest and it beat too fast for too long and run."

He's breathing quicker now and his gaze is heavy, locked onto mine. "Please," I beg him, "Please, stop," I start. But he's staring at me so intently, reading me, looking through my eyes and into my mind and down through the creeks and crevices of my body and I'm so terrified that he'll see that my insides are nothing more than shattered bones and swallowed tears and lies lies lies lies lies. I'm scared he will look so hard that he will finally see truths that I won't even admit that I myself can see. He is looking at me with a sort of intimacy that makes me feel like he knows me but I could never, never know this boy standing in front if me and he hesitates. He hesitates like he's considering ending my torture but then he takes a step closer and I stand up defensively, take a step back.

He takes another step towards me.

"Run," he says again, "run, run, run until you can't hear their feet behind you. Run until they drop their fists and their shouts dissolve in the air. Run with your eyes open and your mouth shut and dam the river rushing up behind your eyes. Run, Juliette."

I clench my eyes shut as tight as I possibly can and put my hands over my ears. I figure I must look like a child throwing a tantrum but I can't can't can't listen to my words and his voice mixing together anymore because it's doing strange things to my head. I'm fighting to suppress the memories, to keep calm when I feel his hands wrap around both my wrists. He gently urges them down from my ears.

"Run until you drop dead. Make sure your heart stops before they ever reach you, before they ever-" A pause,"touch you." He finishes, swallowing the words back even as he says them. He steps closer and he's too too too close and I'm falling right off a cliff and he's the one shoving me off and then I'm falling falling falling but he catches me. He's the one who's killing me and the one who's saving me and I freeze as I feel his breath as he stares down at me, his eyes bright with emotion and his breaths heavy.

A pause.

Then, "Run, I said."

And I'm shaking and trembling and I collapse to my knees on the ground in front of him and I lose all control and I'm sobbing and screaming, I'm yelling "Why are you doing this to me?" I'm yelling, "Don't you dare read another word!" And I'm begging him to give it back. And I'm so embarrassed because this boy, this beautiful heartless boy, has read my most personal feelings that he never should've read. And he knows too much about me and I can't help but think that he cares he cares. But how could he care when he murdered the one I love? But he might just have feelings, he might be human too. And then again, maybe he's only doing this to torture me and I think _Yes,_ I think, _he's only trying to torture me._

And what better weapon could he have then my own mind at his very fingertips?

My eyes are clenched tight and I'm in a ball and I'm still screaming at him to give me back my notebook when I feel myself lifted from the ground and I'm in his arms and he's sitting on his bed and I'm wrapped up in him. He has himself wrapped around me, physically attempting to hold me together and he's making light hushing noises and he's telling me that it's okay now, that I don't have to run from anyone anymore but I know I do. I know I should be running from him.

And through my tears I scream at him, "Let go of me!"

But he won't. He isn't letting me go. Instead, he wraps his arms tighter around me and presses me closer into him and he doesn't seem to be letting go any time soon. And I wiggle to try to get free and he just holds me tighter and eventually I stop fighting. I stop fighting and I give in. I give in and when I do, the confusion rushes back and I don't know what to think of him.

Because Warner isn't anyone I know anymore. I couldn't be any less clear to his intentions and I think maybe, maybe I was wrong. Maybe he cares. Because he won't let go, even as my tears start to ebb, he won't let go of me. He just keeps telling me that everything will be alright, he keeps making those light hushing noises and smoothing back my hair, he holds me so close to him that I'm afraid he won't be able to let me go.

But he isn't hurting me anymore. He isn't hurting anyone right now. In fact, he's attempting to do the exact opposite. He's trying to heal me, to put me back together after I've fallen apart. And I don't think that's possible but it seems he may be the only one willing to try and I have no choice, no choice but to give in and allow him to try. I have no way to escape and I think-

Maybe Warner was right.

Maybe I should just cooperate.

I feel his grip loosen. I feel him let go of me momentarily, only to grab me by the shoulders and turn me towards him. I open my eyes and when I do, his are only inches from mine. He leans his forehead against mine and I feel my skin pressed against his and I'm shocked by how comforted I am by having this sort of contact with another human being. There's a knot in my stomach for too many reasons and there's a feeling buzzing around my heart that I can't explain.

"You have no idea, Juliette, no idea what reading this has done to me," Warner whispers, "You don't know how badly I want you to be safe, to be happy."

I stay silent as he plants a feather-light kiss on the very tip of my nose. A horrified shiver runs through me and I wriggle to try to get away from him. His hands slip from my shoulders and he pulls away from me, I immediately uncurl myself from his lap and walk to his desk a few feet away. Put my hands on the edge of it to steady the tremor that is still quaking throughout my entire being, face the wall as I say, "I just want my notebook back," with as much force as I can muster.

Warner laughs a sad laugh, "I'm afraid that won't be possible, love, I'm not yet done with it," I spin around quick to face him, ready to scream at him for the millionth time but he talks before I get the chance, "I can however, offer you some fresh air."

I'm dressed in a fresh set of clothing, jeans and a sweater and a pair of warm, leather gloves. Warner hands me a black, button-up coat and a knit cap with a pompon sitting on top of it that matches the light violet color of my sweater perfectly. He told me we're going to the compounds to "discourage rebel activity and check up on some citizens". I'm excited just to get outside in the open world for a change, even if it means that Warner will be watching me like a hawk even more so than he does on base since we'll be outside where I could get hurt easier, where unknowing citizens could tap me on the shoulder and hurt themselves.

Where I could run away.

We've just stepped out of the elevator and into a long narrow hallway when Warner's arm hits me squarely in the chest and he shoves me back into a corner. I'm about to protest but he's shushing me and telling me to get down, to hide. I duck down against the wall and Warner stands directly in the middle of the hallway, he's so still that I begin to question whether or not he's still breathing.

Then I see him.

A man who is at least forty years old, tall and strong with posture so straight and perfect that his body is completely, mathematically perpendicular to the ground. The sharp edges of his jaw and face are perfectly symmetrical across both sides. His hair is a soft hazelnut color and is so carefully organized that it's perfection disgusts me. His eyes are such a dazzling shade of aquamarine that I almost forget to hate him.

Almost.

Because this man is Warner's father. It's obvious as the man approaches and I see Warner's hands begin to visibly shake and he has to clench them into fists to hold them still. The Supreme Commander of the Reestablishment stops directly in front of his son. He stares down at Warner in disgust. "Hello, father," Warner states firmly.

The man nods in acknowledgement, "Son," he utters with an edge of distaste, "what are you attending to at the moment? I wish to speak to you about our visitor," he clicks his tongue lightly on the last syllable.

"I'm afraid I don't have the time at the moment, I have to head out to the compounds today, " Warner responds flatly.

Warner's father frowns in displeasure, he glares at his son and I can almost imagine his aquamarine irises leaking out and poisoning the purity of Warner's emerald jewels. "You cannot keep her from me forever, you know, eventually I am going to have to speak with her."

"That is understood," Warner mutters quietly.

"Good," His father smiles menacingly, poison oozing out of his lips at every edge, every pore, "on with your work then."

His father walks around him, his shoes clicking against the tile is the only sound registering in my ears until he's almost out of sight and Warner begins to breath again, I can hear each breath tremble and shake but he isn't moving. He's staring at the same spot somewhere out in the distance and he's breathing gets faster and then a voice calls out.

"I said," his father calls out, "on with your work then, Aaron."

_Aaron. _His name is _Aaron._

Warner Aaron He finally takes a step and begins walking down the hall and it seems like he's going to leave me there to wait for him to return but then, as the light ping of the elevator signals its arrival at our floor, his father yells to him "And take your little girlfriend out of the corner, Aaron, I'm sure she doesn't want to spend her afternoon tucked away attempting to hide from me."

My cheeks redden as I see Warner walking back towards me, not looking at me but glaring angrily at his father. He steps into my corner and grabs my gloved hand in his, pulls me up to my feet and walks briskly down the hall to the exit, his father laughing like a maniac behind us all the while.

**Hey, wassup? Haha... Yeah, I know, I've been gone for like two months and I am terribly terribly sorry, but I've been absolutely, completely occupied with classes and work and all. This chapter is pretty damn long, though. So that's cool. Good news, too! I have three more chapters lined up, edited, and ready to be posted! I'll be posting one on Wednesday AND one on Saturday of this week! So stay tuned and come back on Wednesday! I hope to be able to keep up with this in the weeks to come, but please please pretty please don't be mad at me if I fall a little teeny weeny bit short of my goal!**

**Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review, follow, favorite, and come back for more of ****A Different Shade!**


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